


Purposeful Naivety

by intodust



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, but we been knew that, killmonger is a fuckboy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-03-23 12:25:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13787733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intodust/pseuds/intodust
Summary: The many ways in which Erik Killmonger annoys, distracts, pleasures, and angers the reader.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hope to make this a collection of Reader and Killmonger in their frustrating relationship. For future reference, I choose to use the name 'Erik' as little as possible, seeing as that is my brother's name...yeah.

               No one had to tell you how incredibly stupid you were being, you figured that out all on your own the moment Erik 'Killmonger' Stevens bulldozed his way into your life. You've always been quite prone to making silly mistakes, but this is on another level of stupidity because you see yourself being naive and yet you still do it. Self-Awareness isn't something lacking from your life, though your friends would attest to that seeing as how you're still involved with a damn criminal fuckboy who hates the world.

               In your defense, you didn't know he was hell-bent on colonizing other cultures until your fifth date with him, and by then he had already demonstrated how goddamn skilled he is in bed. Like, mind-blowing, life-changing skills. Blow your back out levels. The kind of sex that while you're in the middle of having it, you still can't believe it's happening and you just know that no one is gonna make you feel like that again. A sad thought, sure, but you've been with more than a few different guys - some of which were extremely good, and it was never like that with them. It's like he knew exactly how to get you going, knew every button to push and make your knees go out, and there have been multiple times where you couldn't walk afterward. Really, you had to call off from work!

               "But is the dick really worth it, sis?" Your girl, Monica, asked the other day. What were you supposed to say to that? If you said yes, you'd sound crazy as hell, and if you said no, they'd assume you were gonna break it off with him. He's honestly not that bad, once you get past the initial _'the world's gotta start_ over _'_ type shit. That stuff is mostly just talk and you know that for a fact because he spends most of his days on the couch playing 2K18 and managing whatever bullshit fake woke blog he runs.

               Is he a thief? Yes, technically. But he likes to call it _'reclaiming his culture'_. You shrug and ignore it because you are not apart of that wave and if he gets in trouble, you know you'll be fine. You usually don't have a problem with him (that is when he's dicking you down and doesn't have to form complete sentences), but lately, the relationship's been feeling off.

               You're relieved to finally get home from a long work day and it's like you can hear your bed calling out to you. You inhale the slight fume of your breakfast from this morning as you step into your apartment, closing your door and locking it behind you.

               "N'Jadaka!" You shouted as you discarded your shoes. You've always preferred calling him by his real name ever since he told it to you. If you happened to get angry with him, you'd switch back to Erik, so he'd know just how much you weren't fucking around.

  
               Before you left the house for work this morning, you caught him sneaking a phone call in the bathroom while the shower was running. When you asked who he was talking to, he assured you it was a family member, but if you know one thing it's that he can't stand his family. You almost called him out until he suggested shower sex, which -- hey, who'd turn that down? But now that your head is clear, it's time to get down to business.

               You could hear the sounds of Halo from where you stood, so you know he hears you calling his ass. You walk to your room, struggling not to roll your eyes.

               "Aw, hey, what's going on?" He asked in greeting without even taking his eyes off your TV screen. He was sitting on your bed in only sweatpants, munching chips from an open bag of Cheetohs on your pillow. Your jaw clenched.

               "Are you gon' look at me or keep playing your little game?" You ask, annoyed. He huffed out a breath, but reluctantly paused his shooting crusade and turned to you.

               "Okay, it's off, c'mere," he opened his arms, motioning for you to come hug him. You had to be firm about this, though, and if he had you in his grip you'd lose all control, so you stayed where you were.

               "I think we should talk." You mutter. N'Jadaka motioned for you still.

               "Okay, c'mere first." He insisted with a lazy smirk. You squint suspiciously because he's laying on the charm a little thick.

               "I'm not about to do this with you, N'Jadaka." You frowned.

               He stood from the bed, uncaring of how low-slung his grey sweatpants were on his waist and stretched. You couldn't help but glance down briefly before averting your eyes. "Oh, so you want me to come to you? I can do that." He took the four easy steps towards you.

               You glared up at him. "Are you talking to another girl?" The big question was dropped, but he didn't seem put off in the slightest, instead wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his body.

               "Baby, do you really think that low of me?" He asks as he starts kissing down your neck. His lips part on your collarbone, giving you sloppy open-mouthed kisses this time while sliding your jacket off your shoulders. His kisses are euphoric, but you try not to get sucked up into his libido. "You think I'm out here messing with other girls when I got you? And this _body_?! Girl, _damn_." He's unbuttoning your top faster than you can form words. _Words, right!_

                **Use your words!**

               "My question," you sighed as his hands grabbed your breasts. His mouth went back to attacking your neck and he pulled you into your room as he did so, moving towards the bed. You grabbed his face to remove from your neck and made him level with you. "You didn't answer my question." You look into his dark brown eyes, searching for an answer yourself, but you could never find anything significant in his eyes.

               "Why would I do that to you?" He replied. Fake ass. "Nah, on some real shit, you know you're the only one who calls me N'Jadaka...the only one who knows what I do for a living...the only one who knows my family history. I don't take that shit lightly." He pressed on, cradling your face in his palms. "This is the closest thing I got to a home right now. If I didn't wanna be here, I wouldn't be here. Okay?" He kissed your lips this time, soft and lingering. You leaned into him, kissing back and reveling in how perfect you two fit together. He smiled once you broke away, revealing the golden fangs in between his sparkling white teeth.

               Okay, so maybe you're whipped on him for a little more than his dick. Your friends don't need to know all that.

               "Now, you gon' let me tear that ass up, or you got some more questions?" You squeal as he pushes you back into your bed. Nope, no more questions. You can stay an idiot for a few more hours.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> N'Jadaka hates your friends, especially Nick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all comments truly had me dying! 
> 
> I feel the need to say a few things: This is a black!Reader fic. I thought it was obvious, but maybe I needed to specify. And for future reference, every Reader I ever write is black! 
> 
> Proceed.

               Despite what N'Jadaka preaches to you unsolicited in the middle of the night, you actually don't have a problem with white people. Most of your co-workers are white and although they can be extremely annoying, for the most part, they mean well. Your best work friend, Samantha, was raised by a black family, so she understands you more so than any other white co-workers. You don't tell N'Jadaka about this, he'd only have negative things to say and you'd be damned if he starts a fight about who you're supposed to be friends with. That's what was making you so nervous about tonight. Samantha invited you out for drinks with a few other people from work and actually insisted that you bring your _'live in boyfriend_ '.

               You've been together for awhile now, it's only natural that the people in your life want to meet him and scope him out to find out if he's a good person. But you know for a fact that he's not, so this introduction bullshit is just a waste of time. Still, Samantha has been asking about hanging out with you guys for weeks and you're running out of excuses. You figure that if you can get in, have one drink, and leave early, that'll make a big enough impression so that no one asks about it again.

               You're laying in bed together when you decide to ask him about it. His lips are wrapped around a half-smoked blunt and The Boondocks is playing on TV, so you know he's in a good mood. If he can Jedi mind-trick you into staying with him despite his criminal background, surely you could make him go to this bar with you and pretend he isn't crazy.

               "My prince," you whisper in a sing-song voice to get his attention. He turned to you, eyebrows raised in surprise. When he revealed to you his royal status, you may have embellished that fact for a few days. He never climaxes faster than when you bring out the royal nicknames. Then, you could see the flicker of recognition in his eyes before he rolled them.

               "Whatchu want?" He questioned, turning back to the TV. You lean closer to him.

               "N'Jadaka, my love, why must you always assume the worst in me?" You ask instead of answering his question. Your hands meet his scarred chest, sliding up and down soothingly. Since he obviously wasn't buying it, you lifted your leg over his hips, settling down on his lap. "I'm just in the mood to make my prince feel good," you lean down to kiss down his jaw as he sets his blunt in the ashtray on the bedside table.

               "You ain't high enough to be acting like this. Last time you started this _'my prince'_ shit, I ended up carrying a damn couch from the furniture store all the way here."

               "It was two blocks and I _helped_ ," you scoffed, then quickly composed yourself.

                **Stick to the plan.**

               "That's unrelated," You mutter as you begin to grind and roll your hips down on him. It's not a surprise that he's already hard. You smirk as you kiss back up his jaw to his mouth and softly kiss his lips. He kisses back, though it's reluctant and careful. You need to break him.

               "Let me serve you, my future king."

               He closes his eyes and lets out a deep groan. He's so easy you almost laugh. You continue grinding on his lap, slowly feeling him give up all his willpower and dignity. His hands gripped your waist to help push you down on him. You let him gain a little control, rolling on his dick until he was panting and trying to take off your pajama bottoms, then you stopped him and pulled away. His eyes opened, dazed and slightly irritated.

               "Remember that work friend I told you about?" You brought up without much finesse. That's on you for getting too wrapped up in your own scam.

               "Goddamn, I knew it! You can't keep doing this!" He yelled while trying to get up. You kept your legs wrapped around him to keep him where he was.

               "She invited us to the bar with a few other colleagues. I can't keep making excuses for why you can't join us, so can you please not be an asshole for one night? Please?" You pleaded. He sighed. "We'll just get one drink, just so they can see you, and then you don't have to do this again, I promise."

               "You really believe I'd act up in front of your friends?"

               "Yes! You can't control your mouth."

               He tsked you, pushing you from his lap. "And you can't control your breath." He picked up his blunt from the dresser and got up to leave. You chose to ignore his childish comment and focus on the real issue.

               "You're really mad about this?"

               "Nah, I'm irritated. I don't give a fuck about your work friends and I been told you I don't wanna get involved with all that."

               "I just wanted to do this so they'd stop annoying me with questions about our relationship! This isn't about you, it's about _me_!" You shouted.

               "I still don't give a fuck, I'm not going." he laughed, smoke billowing out his mouth as he did so. This is what happens when you decide to get involved with a literal villain. Shit like this.

               "You know what...I ain't even got time for this," you walked to your closet to find some decent clothes. You don't need N'Jadaka for this, there are about five other guys willing to go on a date with you in your contact list. You pick out your best black dress and start changing.

               "You still gon' go?" He asked, looking pretty confused. Bitch.

               You quickly strip, ignoring his stare, and pull the dress up. "I'll just ask Nick to be my date, no problem." You reason. Nick has been your friend since high school and he rarely lets you down in emergencies. N'Jadaka's met him briefly a couple times, usually as Nick's dropping you off after a night out and he's never had a problem with him. You guess that's a major assumption based on the sneer on his face now.

               " _Nick_?"

               You nod.

               "The nigga with the cornrows?"

               Eye roll. Nod.

               "Hm."

               You ignore whatever thing N'Jadaka's going through and start calling Nick. And he has the nerve to stare at you like you're betraying _him_! Nick answers on the third ring.

               "Hey, Nick, can you --"

               The phone is snatched from your hands and hung up.

               " **Killmonger**!" You shout. And you never call him by his stupid ass emo alias, but he's driven you to not give a fuck.

               "If I'm not your date, you don't have a date. Especially not Nick."

               "Be my date and I won't have to call Nick. Or do you still not give a fuck?"

               N'Jadaka huffed, clenching his jaw. You didn't even want his overreacting ass with you anymore, but you've never seen him so irrationally jealous before. It's reassuring to see actual feelings from him that isn't lusting.

               "Whatever, let's just get this over with."

               "No. I need better than that. Apologize and then ask me."

               "Now you got me begging to go and shit?" He almost seemed impressed.

               "Nick would beg." You decided to mess with him a little. He groaned, then flicked the rest of his blunt in the ashtray. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his body, and bent to lean his forehead on yours.

               "That's cos he a bitch," he smirked. "I'd rather just show you how sorry I am." He lent down to kiss your neck, but you grabbed his face back up to look you in the eyes. He had that playful spark in him that you knew never ended well for you, but damn it's so sexy. 

               "We don't have time for that. All I'm looking for is an apology."

               "Trust me, this gon' be quick," he said as he started to descend, falling to his knees in front of you with a devilish grin. "You said it's all about you, right?"

               "This isn't what I -- _ow_!" You yelp once his smacks your ass.

               "Don't talk over me, I'm tryna apologize, damn." He hushes you before pulling down your underwear.

               Fine, you could shut the fuck up for a little while. Disrespectful ass.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've finally had it with his bullshit. Or have you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a turn.

               Sometimes you wondered why you even put up with him for so long. N'Jadaka had a way of turning you soft, crushing all of your carefully built walls into crumbles and attacking you beneath the surface. You've spent years on guard, never exploring anything out of your comfort zone, and definitely not getting involved with 'bad boys'. N'Jadaka didn't seem like a bad guy at first, maybe a bit rough around the edges if anything. But that's what you liked about him. And now it's like you're stuck in this routine with him, feeling yourself somehow liking him still despite his downfalls and blatant lying.

               You thought about breaking up with him as you were waiting for him to come back from whatever 'business' he had to take care of. He never told you details and you never cared enough to ask, but now that it was late and you were feeling vulnerable, you wished you knew what he was out there doing sometimes. Was he out there fighting? Cheating? Killing people? You were scared to know the answer because then it would make every horrible thing so much more real. You'd have to come to terms that you were dating a murderer. It's an easier pill to swallow _in theory_.

               So, you had everything mapped and planned out. You wore your most unattractive, 'we're not having sex tonight' granny nightgown with your favorite bonnet on your head and charcoal nose-strip. You can't have him distracting you like he always does. When he walks through the door, you'll lure him into the living room with promises of watching Boyz In The Hood or whatever 90's movie BET was airing tonight. Then, he'd be quiet enough for you to say:

                _Erik, I'm sick of this. It's over._ And he'd be all like:

_Damn. I guess I didn't see a real one when she was right in front of me. I should've cherished you like a real man should, Goddess._

_That's true. Bye._ You'd give him one last kiss and kick him out and **boom** , no more moral dilemmas and you can go on through your average as hell life and find someone less problematic who you could actually marry. 

               It looked super easy in your head, but as soon as you heard your front door open and close, everything was shot to hell. 

               You noticed the bleeding first, dark red blood dripping down the side of his face, staining the arm of his shirt, dried on his fists. Then, his face - hard, empty, and cold. He looked like he had just come from a war, bruised and bleeding and stoic as ever. You hesitate to inch near him as he seemed to be in a trance, but once he noticed your movement, his expression changed into something more friendly. He greeted you with a nod.

               "Don't trip." Is all he said. Immediately, you grab his hand and pull him into the kitchen. You don't care about him telling you how fine he is, you push him to sit in a chair and begin searching for first aid. 

               "Is that your blood?" You ask as you pull the first aid kit from a cabinet and set it on the counter. "Or is it someone else's?"

               "Little bit of both. I thought you'd be asleep by now. Don't you have work tomorrow?"

               Ignoring his question, you begin lifting his shirt to make sure he wasn't injured elsewhere. Thankfully, he complied and held off whatever sexual remark that was on the tip of his tongue. He threw his shirt on the floor, which would've usually annoyed you, but you were overcome with this irrational fear that something bad happened to him. And you didn't even realize how much you cared about his well-being until you were running your hands over his body, inspecting for soreness and injury. The gash on his arm that turned out to be a thin cut relieved you, but he winced when you poked his ribs. 

               "Erik, you need to go to the hospital." You sigh. He scoffs at the suggestion.

               "Baby, I been in the middle of battlefields before. Shit ain't never that serious." He stood up and walked to the fridge, grabbing a beer. 

               Everything inside of you screamed to comfort him, but he didn't need it and he for damn sure wouldn't let you close enough for that. All this time...and you couldn't get through to him. Sex couldn't possibly be that important to you to have to deal with him. He stepped over his shirt strewn on the floor to get to the living room.

               You followed silently.

               "BET always think a nigga wanna watch the same ass censored movie all fucking day long." He comments, noticing the TV. 

               "You expect me to have a normal conversation with you when you look like that?"

               "You ain't got to." He replied as he sank down on your couch.

               "And I bet you won't tell me exactly what happened." You whisper mostly to yourself.

               "It's none of your business."

               "It is when you're bringing it in my fucking house! I can't believe I actually thought I could do this the easy way, it's never the easy way with you and it never will be! It's over!" You shout. N'Jadaka visibly recoils, but his eyes don't move to yours, they stay fixed on your TV like he planned to ignore you. Fuck that.

               You move in front of the TV and shut it off, then turn back to him.

               "Don't fucking ignore me! You heard what the fuck I just said, so get the hell out!" You yell louder to get the words through his thick ass skull, but he's still looking up blankly at you. He's making you look stupid, standing in front of him yelling like you his damn mama and he's not even reacting. Fine.

               You power walk out the living room headed straight for your bedroom. You grab an empty laundry basket and start searching for everything he's ever left with you. You throw some shirts in it, a few pairs of pants, his obnoxious necklaces, his Jordans, and basically anything you could see through your surprisingly teary eyes. You were wreaking havoc, making a mess of your room, muttering harsh words and that's exactly how he found you when he walked in.

               "All this because I get into a lil fight? Are you alright?" He asks. You pause your renegade to glare at him.

               "Don't act like you care about me or why I'm doing this! You don't care about anyone but yourself, you've made that pretty fucking clear."

               "Oh, so I don't care about you?"

               "Yep."

               "Real shit?"

               "Yeah."

               He advanced towards you looking more menacing than you've ever seen him, hair wild, eyes cold, and blood still on his face, but you refused to cower away. He stopped right in front of you.

               "If I keep some shit from you, that's to protect _you_ ," he poked your chest, "not because I'm out here finding random thots to fuck, which I know you think I'm doing every time I leave this damn house. That shit don't concern you and I ain't dragging you into it! But, fine, since you wanna get outta pocket and throw all my shit around the house and fucking kick me out, I'll tell you!" His shouts kept getting louder and you finally flinched away.

               "I don't need to know, okay! I don't care anymore!"

               "Lying ass. You care about everything I do!"

               "Who said that? False! I don't give a fuck about you, the only reason I kept you in this bitch is because you give good head."

               He smirked. "Lie to me again."

               You had to turn around, you couldn't look at him anymore. He was just someone to pass the time with, no feelings involved. No feelings. **Never**. He doesn't deserve your feelings.

               "I don't care about you." You say but it comes out cracked and low this time. _Fuck_! You try to run out of the room before he says anything, but two strong arms wrap around your midsection and pull you back in. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck, his heart thumping against your back. You try to fight him off the best you can, but everything is futile because his grip is like a vice. Huffing, you fall slack in his arms.

               He kisses your neck before whispering, "You care about me and I care about you. And I like this... _us_ , whatever we have." His hand finds your own. "I like you. Forreal. You know I ain't good with the romantic type shit."

               How in the hell did this happen? You were just trying to throw his ass out and now you're melted in his arms reconsidering everything.

               "I can't be with a murderer." You make clear. He laughs.

               "You really don't know what I be doing. I promise it ain't as bad as whatever you made up in your mind, baby. I'll be honest with you. I'll explain everything, okay?"

               Yeah, you're gone for sure. "Okay." You turn in his arms to look at him. He still looks a bit worried and that makes your stomach flutter. You pull him down to your lips and kiss him with everything you had in you. When you broke apart, you were about eighty percent sure you now had blood on your face.

               This is fucked up, actually.

               "Make up sex?" He asked, but did he even really have to? 

               "In the shower though, you got blood on me." You quickly remove your shirt and race to the bathroom with N'Jadaka right behind you.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> N'Jadaka isn't an asshole all the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for my depressed bitches and for them only. It's a short one though.

               Some days you just weren't in the mood for human interaction. Those days you felt empty and preferred staying in the warmth of your duvet than getting up to fill up a glass of water. You still didn't quite understand how you could feel so great one second and then want nothing but to disappear into the void the next, but you've accepted that it's just like that sometimes. Though, this act of complete disregard for society has been difficult to achieve with N'Jadaka always hanging around. You had to find a block of time when he wasn't around to indulge yourself in your depressive spiral in silence. 

               "Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

               His voice shocked you out of your daydream. You were wrapped in a blanket burrito, Mariah Carey's sad playlist blasting from your radio, an old 90's show rerun silently running on your TV, and you had all your Depression Snacks spread out around you. It wasn't at all how you wanted him to ever find you. You turned your head out of the blanket to see N'Jadaka looking around the room in confusion. 

               "I thought you said you'd be back tomorrow!" You struggled out of your blanket cocoon. 

               "I left my charger. Are you in here crying to Mariah Carey?" He asks and you roll your eyes. One day is all you wanted. One _sweet_  damn day! 

               "Can you just go?" You ask. You don't even have it in you to argue with him, you're mentally exhausted and you just wanna listen to 90's R&B without being judged. N'Jadaka frowned at your tone, then walked towards you.

               "Did you even eat anything today?" 

               You gesture around you to the empty bags of chips. He huffs, then pulls your face in to kiss your cheek.

               "Imma go get you some take out. Till then, you should go wash up or something. You got crumbs in your hair and your eyelash is falling off on the side." He laughed, pushing your shoulder. Then he took off without another word and you were left shocked. What's his deal today? Any other day, he'd gladly just get the hell out, but now he's telling you to do things. Just getting to the bathroom would require so much damn energy, like sitting up...turning...standing and walking! You'd rather go back to sleep.

               Groaning, you mustered every ounce of energy you could pull from within and detached yourself from your bed, cursing N'Jadaka the entire way. Bitch ass, always ruining your plans. 

               But also it's really sweet that he volunteered himself to get your food. Curious, you walk to your money jar on your dresser to see if everything is still there. _Nope_! That nigga took twenty dollars off you to buy your lunch. You grunt, then angrily march to your bathroom for a quick shower. You wanted to be nice and clean when you snatched your food out his hands and threw him out. Spite is what got you through your shower, but you did walk out of it feeling the slightest bit accomplished. That didn't stop you from throwing your pajamas back on and falling on your bed again.

               You heard when N'Jadaka came back in and chose not to react because all the spite you'd been building up eventually led to nothing. You were too tired and unfocused. He came through your door and set the bag of containers on your dresser, then sighed upon seeing you. Surprisingly, he didn't bother you with some speech about getting up and being responsible or something. Instead, you could hear him picking up the things you left on your bed - the empty bags of chips and cookies, a few other unidentifiable wrappers, your overheated laptop. You realized that he was just cleaning everything around you, putting things back into place for you. You wanted to know why he even decided to do this for you, it's hardly in his character.

               "You stole my money." You mutter, pouting. You wish it came out more incriminating than it did, but you were having a hard time gathering enough energy to do so. 

               He opened the bag of food and placed a container next to you on the bed along with a plastic fork and napkins. "It's money you should've used to buy food anyway. Eat." He demanded. You rolled your eyes and opened the container. He got you your favorite Chinese food. You could've teared up. 

               "Aww, N'Jadaka..." you whimpered. He waved you off.

               "Nah, don't start all that. It's not that serious." He said, but you were on an emotional rollercoaster and almost on the verge of crying. 

               "You didn't have to walk all the way to --"

               "Remember that I stole your money? I stole from you. Don't do too much." He switched from foot to foot, obviously uncomfortable. You smiled at him, which was the first smile you had cracked all day. "Anyway...lemme get my charger and get back to what I was doing."

               "You...You don't have to..." You whisper though you're just being polite because you definitely can't deal with him today. He shakes his head as he leans down to you.

               "I'll see you tomorrow, baby." He pulled you in for a quick kiss, then backed away with a small smile showing off his dimples.

               "See you." You reply, waving him away as he rushes out of your room. When he's gone, you blush to yourself, smiling like crazy and shoving sloppy mouthfuls of your food into your mouth. See? He's not an asshole _every_ day. Just most days.  



End file.
